


Aftermath

by EaManning



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Could get dark, Death Eater stigmas, Draco is trying to better himself, F/M, Hermione has issues, More tags later, No Harry or Ron, Possible Eventual Smut, Six months later, Wizarding World War Aftermath
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 18:12:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15734742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EaManning/pseuds/EaManning
Summary: "As the Sorting Ceremony began, Draco’s gaze trailed once again to Granger. She was sitting several seats away from the rest of the Gryffindors, who were all pretending as though she was not there. He knew their attention was currently directed at the Sorting, but there was something about her sitting so far from everyone else that had him wondering. Just what had she been up to for the past six months?"--Lord Voldemort was defeated, but at a heavy cost. Six months later the Wizarding World is trying to return to normal. Living with the stigma of the Dark Mark, Draco reluctantly goes back to Hogwarts to finish his schooling, only to find a familiar face once believed to be dead. Can two former foes find some semblance of normal together? Or are old scars too deep to heal?





	Aftermath

_ Chapter One: Familiar Faces   
_

The young man who walked alone down the winding road impatiently ran his hand through his messy blond hair, hating how it fluttered wildly in the gentle breeze. He’d never let his hair grow this long before. It was currently making its way to his shoulders, something he loathed, but he simply did not have the energy to cut it. That had been a task previously reserved for his house elf, but Dovey was currently in Liverpool with his mother. He made a mental note to cut it later.

 

Draco Malfoy never thought he would regret living on his own. He’d yearned for his independence since he was a teenager, back in the days when his greatest worry was not getting an insult in to Potter and his gang. How he’d loathed them back at Hogwarts. From Potter and his arrogance, to Weasley with his unending loyalty, and Granger and her insufferable ability to know everything. He imagined he would still hate them, if they were still alive.

 

The war had ended just over six months ago, and yet the streets were as dark and gloomy as they’d been during Lord Voldemort’s reign. The few witches and wizards he passed when he mustered up the energy to leave Malfoy Manor still had that fearful, suspicious look in their eyes, though Draco supposed that was directed at him because of who he and his family were. His father had never kept his allegiance to the Dark Lord a secret, and because Draco bore a strong resemblance to Lucius, that suspicion had passed on to him.

 

Draco pretended not to care. He never would have used to. Most of the Wizarding community had been beneath him, or at least that was what he’d been brought up to think. Because of his pureblood status, he was better than all of them and therefore surpassed judgment. He tried to convince himself that they were nothing more than dirt under his feet, but somehow he could not quite convince himself anymore.

 

He pushed thoughts of the war and his previous life away. He needed to get going if he was going to make it on time.

 

Not for the first time, he regretted his solitude if only so he did not have to push his overly large trunk himself. Back in his childhood, either his father or the house-elf pushed the trunk for him. Usually it was Dobby, until he’d been sacked and Dovey had replaced him. Lucius Malfoy rarely let others see him engage in the menial task of pushing his son’s school trunk. Lucius Malfoy liked to think he was Wizarding royalty.

 

_Look where that got him,_ Draco mused bitterly as he came upon King’s Cross station.

 

He’d Apparated in an empty alley nearby, not able to bring himself to use a Muggle taxi. As he entered the bustling train station, he couldn’t help but wonder at how busy it was. The Muggles he passed were going about their day as though they hadn’t just narrowly avoided a massacre at the hands of a demented wizard. Didn’t they know how lucky they were? He supposed not. Draco certainly did not feel too lucky these days.

 

He arrived at Platform nine and three quarters with ten minutes to spare. Plenty of time to stow his trunk and find an empty compartment. He knew he would have no trouble finding one to himself simply because of the fear his presence was likely to instill. He and his mother had been cleared of all charges six months ago, but that did not mean people were no longer suspicious of him. After all, Draco still bore the Dark Mark on his left forearm. It was faded and no longer worked, but it was still there. He’d been disappointed to learn that it had not gone away when Voldemort had been killed. It was now a permanent stigma that Draco would have to live with for the rest of his life. He made sure his jacket covered his arm as he boarded the scarlet steam engine.

 

As he predicted, the students he crossed paths with immediately avoided him, hurrying past him as though he had Dragonpox. He rolled his eyes and began scanning the train for an available compartment.

 

At last he found one near the back of the train. As he entered and put away his things, he could not help but muse at how few students there seemed to be. The Hogwarts Express was not as full as it used to be. It was yet another effect of the war. The Battle of Hogwarts had left both sides with their fair amount of casualties. He shuddered when he remembered that day, thinking of the friends he’d lost. Not that he’d had many to begin with. He could still hear Crabbe’s screams as he’d fallen into the Fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement. That had been a loss that affected him more than he’d anticipated.

 

As he sat down by the window overlooking the platform, his eyes fell upon a ghost.

 

Of course, the logical part of him knew she could not be a ghost. Ghosts were not corporeal. Ghosts did not have bushy brown hair, or wore faded jeans and a red t-shirt. Ghosts did not push around a trunk that was undoubtedly full of books.

 

Draco sat away from the window, unwilling to admit the truth of what he’d just seen. _Who_ he’d just seen. She simply could not be there. She’d died in the battle along with Potter and Weasley. The entire Wizarding world had mourned the loss of the Golden Trio as though they’d been saints. Their faces had been plastered in the _Daily Prophet_ for weeks after the battle, a constant reminder to Draco of everything he’d lost. Family and status. His future. His reputation.

 

How could Hermione Granger be here? It was not possible. Yet, he knew that if he looked out the window again he would see her and know the truth of it. She had survived the battle after all. And now she was returning to complete her seventh year as he was, just to torment him.

 

Draco forced himself to push all thought of Granger out of his mind. He took out his textbook for his N.E.W.T Defense Against the Dark Arts class and began studying the complex defensive jinxes and curses he would be required to learn that year, trying to ignore the feeling that somewhere on this train, Granger was undoubtedly doing the same thing in another compartment.

 

He spent the duration of the journey buried in his books, determined that he was not going to let Granger best him in every subject. By the time the Hogwarts Express came to a stop later that evening, he’d gotten through _Advanced Defense, The Seventh Year’s Guide to Transfiguration,_ and halfway through _Everything a NEWT Student Needs to Know About Charms._

 

Draco hastily stowed the books back into his trunk and changed into his robes. He made sure he was the last one off the train, both to avoid the stares from the other students and to avoid the notice of Granger. He spotted her instantly. Though she tried to blend in with the rest of the students who were making their way to the carriages, he knew her from her bushy hair. Even the way she carried herself annoyed him. He kept his gaze on her, careful to stay behind her so they would not end up in the same carriage.

 

She did not carry herself with the confidence he was so used to. Her shoulders were hunched as she made sure to keep a careful distance away from those around her. When she stopped and turned around to look around her, he was struck by her eyes.

 

They’d lost their previous spark. Like so many witches and wizards he’d seen after the battle, they were dull and aged. There was something different about hers, however. They were…lifeless. There was simply no other way to describe them. He half expected her to burst into tears. Her cheeks were hollow and sunken, and she was far skinnier than he remembered her. Even in her billowing black Hogwarts robes, he could tell that her body had lost a significant amount of weight. He supposed the toll of losing her best friends would have that effect on her, but he could not shake the nagging suspicion that this was something more.

 

He was spared from examining her further when the next carriage pulled up and she boarded it with three other students Draco did not know or recognize. He kept his face down so she would not see him then raised it once more when her carriage left for the castle.

 

It only took another minute for the rest of the students to claim their carriages. Draco had somehow managed to get one all to himself, though he figured that was due to the other students’ desire to keep their distance.

 

When Draco made his way into the Great Hall minutes later, his previous prediction about the student body being significantly lower was proven at once. The four House tables were half their normal capacity. Slytherin was the lowest; barely a third of the table was in use. A few faces he recognized, but by and large they were all strangers to him. He recognized Millicent Bulstrode, who offered him a weak smile. Because he did not see any other alternative, he reluctantly made his way over to her.

 

“I heard you were coming back,” she mumbled as he sat down beside her.

 

“It seems my mother still cannot keep a secret. Some things never change, I guess.”

 

“She told my parents, who told me. It’s not like I’m surprised. A convicted Death Eater like you…”

 

“Pardoned Death Eater,” he corrected her coolly.

 

“…Not many prospects otherwise,” she finished as though he hadn’t interrupted. “The only reason I came back is because Healers are required to complete their N.E.W.Ts. You’d think with the shortage after the war they’d have changed their requirements.”

 

“How awfully dreadful for you.”

 

Millicent scowled at him. “At least I know what I’m doing with my life. Why exactly did you come back? Malfoy Manor too lonely?”

 

“Yeah, that’s right. I needed some fresh air.”

 

Merlin, it was going to be a long year if he had to put up with Bulstrode as his only companion. At least she knew when to shut up. Pansy had never known when he’d had enough of her.

 

“Oh my God!” Millicent exclaimed suddenly, causing Draco to peer around anxiously. He relaxed when he noticed what had caught her eye, though it did not make him feel any better.

 

“Yeah, Granger’s back,” he said, pretending he hadn’t been as shocked as Millicent was when he’d first seen her. “Apparently she’s back from the dead.”

 

“I heard she was killed in the battle, along with Potter and Weasley.”

 

“Can’t believe everything you hear, apparently.”

 

“But how? My father said her body had been recovered. There was a service and everything! Do you think it’s someone under the Polyjuice Potion?”

 

Draco snorted. “As amusing as that would be, I don’t think its true. What on earth would be the point?”

 

Millicent shrugged. Through his peripheral vision he saw her head move as she followed Granger’s movements, only stopping when she settled herself at the Gryffindor table. “I don’t know. Maybe to get a laugh at the reaction she’s getting. We’ll probably find out tomorrow that it was one of those Gryffindor twats having a laugh.”

 

“Some joke,” Draco muttered. He was relieved when the doors to the Great Hall opened and Longbottom entered with a handful of first years trailing behind.

 

“Since when is Longbottom a teacher? He never finished his N.E.W.Ts.”

 

“Since there was a shortage of professors after the battle,” Millicent whispered as the first years stopped at the gap between the teacher’s table and the house tables. “A lot of them died in the battle. Most of the new teachers were given their jobs on the spot. I think there was a background check, but it was mostly to assure parents they weren’t hiring Death Eaters.”

 

“And I thought this year could get no worse. First Granger’s back, and now we’re going to get Herbology lessons from Longbottom of all people…” Draco trailed off and sighed. He was seriously considering taking the train back to Malfoy Manor.

 

“If he tries anything we’ll just go to McGonagall. Actually, I hope he does. He’ll get sacked and then we can have a proper teacher.”

 

As the Sorting Ceremony began, Draco’s gaze trailed once again to Granger. She was sitting several seats away from the rest of the Gryffindors, who were all pretending as though she was not there. He knew their attention was currently directed at the Sorting, but there was something about her sitting so far from everyone else that had him wondering. Just what had she been up to for the past six months?

 

There were only twelve first years, so the Sorting was over in a matter of minutes. There was only one who’d been put in Slytherin, and he’d sat down across from Draco looking terrified. Draco merely pretended he was not there as McGonagall stood up and addressed the students.

 

“Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. I know I speak for the rest of my colleagues when I say this is a year we should all be immensely grateful for. Six months ago the prospect of reopening the school did not seem likely. We lost many friends that night…”

 

The headmistress trailed off as she looked down. Her hands shook slightly as she took off her spectacles to wipe her eyes. She replaced them a moment later and when she addressed the students again her voice was steady and determined. “We will remember that night as one in which our freedom was won. Those who died sacrificed their lives so that we may continue the pursuit of education and freedom that we will not take for granted. Each day should be celebrated, each success rewarded, and every new friendship forged should be cherished.”

 

She paused in her speech and turned to look at the Slytherins. “The time for division between the Houses is over. All previous prejudices have no further place in this school. We are all here for a common purpose. We are all friends here. Because of this new era, any derogatory slur muttered even in jest will not be tolerated. Anything, from name calling to casting hexes at each other in the hallway will be cause for expulsion. There will be no warnings. Hogwarts will be a peaceful sanctuary for all who wish to educate themselves, not an arena for feuding and bickering.”

 

Draco could have sworn her attention was focused mostly on him, though she did cast the occasional look at Granger. If possible, she seemed to shrink even lower in her seat.

 

“I think that is all I have to say. Thank you for your understanding.”

 

The moment McGonagall left the podium there was an outbreak of muttering as the plates immediately filled with food.

 

“Did you notice she looked at us when she said that?” Millicent asked as she loaded her plate with chicken and mashed potatoes. “The time for prejudice is past, yet she didn’t seem to look at anyone else. How is that not prejudice?”

 

“Old habits die hard,” Draco mumbled as he took a bite of his steak-and-kidney pie.

 

Millicent seemed to understand his desire to be left alone, for she did not try to engage him in any more conversation. If she noticed that Draco kept his attention firmly fixed on Granger, however, she did not say anything.

 

Draco had expected the rest of the Gryffindors to embrace her in conversation after the Sorting, but they continued to ignore her. Granger was left to eat by herself, which Draco knew she had not done since her the beginning of their first year. Why he knew that little tidbit of information, he had no idea, but thought no more of it.

 

She barely took two bites of food before she sighed and pushed her plate away. Draco watched her as she looked at her lap, keeping herself as small as possible.

 

_She’s still getting over Potter and Weasley’s deaths,_ he reasoned. _It’s nothing more than that._

 

Yet, Draco told himself as he and Millicent led the rest of the Slytherins to their dungeon common room once the feast was over, it had seemed much more than that.

 

As he settled himself into the lone bed in his dormitory, he tried to push Granger from his thoughts, but she stubbornly stayed there. The last thing he saw as he closed his eyes was her sad eyes and hunched form.

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I wrote a while back that I thought lost forever. There are multiple chapters, so I'll post more assuming enough people are interested. Let me know what you think!


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